


Light Up the Dark

by Tabithian



Series: These Things I've Found [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always someone new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Up the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Slight references to[ A Story No One Tells](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4379906), but it’s not necessary to read that first.  
> 

There's always someone new. 

It doesn't matter who you are or where you are in life, there's always someone new. Someone trying to make a name for themselves, who thinks the way to do that is by challenging someone higher up from them. Doing whatever they can to make it big, become someone important.

“What do you want me to do with him, Boss?”

Tim knows without a doubt Pru's seen this before, although Ra's has always been far more ruthless in dealing with usurpers.

“Kill him.”

Tim glances at Jason, bleeding slightly and looking more put out that a sub-par hired killer managed to get him than the fact he's injured. He's running on adrenaline and residual anger that the would-be assassin managed to break into the tower, get so close to fulfilling hiss job.

His gaze switches to Tam, scowling at Jason and muttering under her breath about the idiots in her life as she tends to his injuries. From Tam to Cullen, hands shaking slightly as he hands Tam the supplies she quietly request from him, Jason holding carefully still under her hand.

Harper scowling at Tim from her spot by the wall when she's not watching her brother.

And that's on Tim, isn't it. Bringing the Rows into something like this, into this part of his life. (Oh, Tam had pushed, but Tim could have said no.)

Mr. Whiskers is crouched under the sofa, quiet hissing and flash of claws when Tim had gone to check on him.

“I don't take orders from you, Hood,” Pru says, every bit one of Ra's' ninjas now. (Something the others tend to forget from time to time.)

“Call the police,” Tim says, smiles faintly at the looks that gets him. They all know Commissioner Gordon has been itching to arrest Tim for a while now. 

“Fucking seriously?”

Tim's smile widens, just the tiniest bit.

“I'm a private citizen who's just been attacked in my own home. I do believe the police are meant to protect people like me.”

Cullen snorts, because, _really_.

“Shut it, Row,” Jason says, but there's the tiniest bit of humor in his voice.

Tam sighs, handing over the treatment of Jason's injuries to Cullen to make the phone call.

“We'd better get raises for this,” Tam says, hand brushing Tim's shoulder to reassure herself he's still alive as she walks past.

“You make more than I do now,” Tim calls after her. “Why should I do that?”

Pru looks up from where she's zip-stripping the would-be assassin. 

“I can always let him go?” she offers, little smirk on her lips. “See what happens after.”

She's not joking, is the thing.

“Fine, fine, raises for everyone,” Tim mutters, as if he wasn't going to do that anyway.

(He might have to put it down as hazard pay, but it's the same in the end.)

********

There are police officers swarming the penthouse. Forensic techs puttering around under Pru's watchful eyes, making sure they stay far enough away from Venus and Serena while Jason lurks behind Tim. Tam and Cullen are retrieving security video footage for Gordon's people, carefully edited.

Commissioner Gordon has that pinched look on his face he tends to get when he as to deal with Tim as a citizen of the great city of Gotham, eyes narrowed just the smallest amount.

“New muscle?” he asks, eyes going to Jason.

Tim can feel Jason's amusement at the way the good Commissioner keeps looking at him.

“Business partner,” Tim says, which is close enough to the truth it isn't a complete lie. 

And, oh, the look he gets for that.

“Business partner.”

Tim smiles, pleasant. Friendly even. 

“Yes.”

Commissioner Gordon sighs. 

“Commissioner?”

“This is the fourth time in the last several months,” Commissioner Gordon says, watching Tim.

“This is Gotham,” Tim says, shrug in his voice. “And as I'm sure you're aware, people in my position make for tempting targets.”

Lets his gaze wander towards the shadow of the Wayne Enterprises building because _Bruce._.

Another sigh. Long, drawn out.

“Right,” Gordon says. Eyebrow goes up. “Do you have any ideas who might be behind this? Possible enemies?”

Tim.

Where does he even start with that one?

“Nasty town,” Jason says, wealth of meaning in it. “Lot of crazies.”

Gordon meets Jason's gaze levelly. “Gotham has its moments.”

Jason snorts, looks away.

“You have good security people,” Commissioner Gordon says, tipping his chin at Pru, gaze going to Jason for a moment before landing back on Tim.

“The best,” Tim says, and it's true. 

His people are the best at what they do, even if Gordon only knows the tiniest bit of what that is.

********

Tam gives him two choices once Commissioner Gordon and his people leave.

Either take Pru _and_ Jason to one of his safe houses for the night (until they find out who's trying to kill him now), or see if Dick wouldn't mind a house guest. (Two, really, because Mr. Whiskers is fussy.)

And Tim.

Tim looks at her, at Pru and Jason who is an odd sort of protective when it comes to Tim.

Thinks about arguing, pointing out that either way he's putting people in danger.

Pru would stab whoever went after her if she doesn't just shoot them first. Jason would just shoot them, and Tim doesn't even want to think about what Tam might do, not to mention Harper or Cullen.

Dick.

Dick is Dick, and someone just tried to kill Tim, came surprisingly close to doing it.

There's no knowing how long this is going to go on, how long they get to the bottom of things, so.

*******

“Tim?”

“Hey,” Tim says, bag over his shoulder, Mr. Whisker's carrier by his feet, and a small smile on his face. “There was a thing, mind if I stay here for the night?”

Dick's blinking down at him, hair in horrible disarray, little bits of the glue he uses for his mask still stuck to his face.

“What?”

Tim smiles, reaches up to brush Dick's hair out of his eyes. 

This, tonight. It's weakness, selfishness, on his part.

“Long night?”

Dick shakes his head, rubs some of the sleep from his eyes. “What happened?”

Tim shrugs, looks away because Dick see too much sometimes. (Always.)

“Nothing to worry about.”

When he looks back at Dick -

“I wonder what Tam would say if I asked her,” Dick muses, little frown between his eyes.

Tim looks up at him, lets him consider the possibilities because Tam, and the late hour. (Or early, depending on how you look at it.)

“You drive me crazy,” Dick says, steps back to let Tim inside, little smile on his face.

“I try,” Tim says, smiles at the look Dick gives him.

********

Dick is waiting for him in the morning, empty coffee mug at his elbow.

“I saw something interesting on the news this morning,” he says, casual.

Tim. 

There's _coffee_ , he can smell it. 

Sees Dick had a cup.

But. 

Dick is _hiding_ it. 

Employing despicable tactics.

“Oh?” Tim asks, looks around in a vague sort of way, searching, searching.

“Oracle called.”

Tim. It's not a wince, not an admittance of – of guilt, just.

“Did she.”

“Tam texted.”

Tim looks at Dick, who looks back.

Worry and concern, fear, well hidden, but Tim _knows_ Dick.

“We're handling it,” Tim says, knows better than to use 'I' in this, anything like this because _Dick_.

“Tim.”

Tim carefully doesn't think about all the times someone has tried to kill Dick. 

Not in the middle of a battle with the Titans, or working a case in Bludhaven or here in Gotham where something like that is to be expected, just.

Going out of their way, outright tracking him down and waiting for the right moment to strike, to take Nightwing down and add that little notch to their belt, gain a bit of notoriety for being the one to kill one of the Bats, no. 

He certainly doesn't think about that or how he'd felt when he found out about it _later_ , Dick a little worse for wear, grin on his face and, _”I had it under control, trust me.”_

Smiles.

“Is there any coffee?”

Dick sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Driving me crazy right now, Tim.”

And Tim.

“Same,” he say, shrugs when Dick looks up at him. 

Dick huffs out a laugh, tired, exasperated. 

********

Tim allows himself that one night, morning, and then.

He does some research, asks a few questions in the right places. Makes a promise or two here, arranges a deal or more there. Careful, careful, because there's a delicate balance in place here, the way he and his people work.

And always, always, there's Pru or Jason, if not both, at his back.

“You should have told him.”

Tim looks up at Jason, looming in the shadows like the Bat he claims he isn't.

“Probably,” Tim says, after a long moment spent considering potential responses. “Thankfully, Oracle and Tam took care of that for me.”

Jason _looks_ at him.

“I see your point,” Tim says, because the two of them had given him time to tell Dick, hadn't they. 

No possibility Dick wouldn't have found out about the attack, Tim being a fairly well-known figure in Gotham, the press having a field day with this latest attempt on his life.

“You're so goddamn stupid, I don't know how you're still alive some days,” Jason says, the same sort of tired exasperation Dick was feeling earlier. “Fucking seriously.”

Tim shrugs, looks around to where Tam is scowling ferociously at her laptop, Harper and Cullen poring over hard copy files and Pru is on the phone to someone, frown on her face. 

Jason glaring down at him.

All of them working to find out who is trying to kill Tim _this_ time, following up hints, leads they've managed to dig up. Sifting through whatever information might prove fruitful, even the smallest bit. 

There are rumors, Jason and Pru discovered while Tim was at Dick's, working through the night.

Rumors of there being a price on Tim's head, someone outside Gotham offering _rewards_ if they can kill him, bring them proof. 

They're still working on the why, but for now they've regrouped in one of the safe houses Tim's established around Gotham. Small and cramped compared to the others. Carefully designed for something like this.

The only people who know about it are in this room

His most trusted people, the ones who he knows he can rely on without question.

“Who knows,” Tim says, feels a smile stealing across his face at the look on Jason's.

“Goddamn moron,” Jason snarls, stalks over to talk to Pru.

 _Well_ , Tim thinks, watching him go. _You're not wrong_.

********

Tim doesn't always make the best decisions.

If he ever needed evidence, there's the fact that at the moment he's handcuffed and locked up in a small room, little clock counting down in the back of his head. 

He's only valuable alive for so long after all, because there's always someone new.

Some fledgling organization in Gotham looking to make it big, trying to play both sides in this little. Whatever is going on right now, Tim can't quite figure it out.

Trying to get an _agreement_ from Tim, squeeze promises from him in exchange for letting him live. (Thinking whoever wants Tim dead won't find out, won't go after them. That Tim would risk his people by protecting them.)

But.

They weren't getting any closer to finding out who the person behind everything was playing things safe, hiding Tim away the way they had been. And there's the little fact all of them seem to have overlooked, that _Tim_ had been the one to design the safe house. Put little passages in there that never made it to the blueprints because you just never knew if your enemies might get their hands on them, did you. 

They weren't getting any closer to finding answers, but the people trying to kill Tim were getting impatient, reckless, casualties rising as they tried to draw Tim out of hiding, and Tim.

He has an obligation to Gotham, her people.

Tim freezes at a faint scuff from above, slide of a ceiling tile being moved and -

Dick's head, popping through the ceiling, hair hanging down in his face in the brief moment before he drops down, righting himself along the way to land on his feet, one hand out for balance.

“Hey.”

Tim.

“Hey.”

Dick stares at him for a long moment, taking in the results of the gentle persuasion Tim's abductors had used, _sighs_. 

“Mr. Whiskers is needy.”

Carefully approaches Tim, looking for traps,tricks. Moves behind him, crouching down to look at his restraints.

Tim's abductors are admirably paranoid.

“Mr. Whiskers is fussy, not needy,” Tim says, like there's a real difference. “And thank you for watching him for me.”

He was safer with Dick than he would have been at the safe house, in case they needed to evacuate, and also - 

Dick snorts, does something with the chains that pulls at Tim's shoulders, draws an involuntary hiss of pain from him.

“Tim?”

“I'm fine,” Tim says.

Dick mutters something too low to hear, takes more care when he sets back to work.

“You're welcome,” Dick says, rote. “But would you mind actually asking next time? And maybe, I don't know, not just disappearing on me like you did? That would be kind of great.”

Tim winces. “That might have been the decent thing to do, huh.”

Quiet laugh from Dick, soft click and the restraints loosen, Dick coiling them up as he unwinds them from around Tim, sets them on the floor next to his feet neatly. 

“Alfred would have been so disappointed,” he says, low enough only the two of them can hear as he unlocks the handcuffs. 

Tim - 

The door to the room burst open, revealing Jason and Pru, weapons in hand and little spatters of blood on their gloves.

“Jesus Christ, aren't you two done flirting yet?”

“Hey,” Tim says, watches the way Pru's watching him.

“Isn't this how we met?” Jason asks. “I mean, less dead bodies, but. Give me some time and I can fix that.”

There were a handful of goons watching Tim, waiting for their boss to give them the word to kill Tim if he didn't cooperate, but it looks like they're not going to be a problem anymore.

“What?” Dick asks, and right.

He doesn't know about that, does he.

Tim shakes his head, looks to Jason, Pru, and says, “Thanks for not killing them.”

Tim would rather not add to their kills if he could, putting that weight on them even though they don't seem to care. Looks at Dick, sees the way his shoulders come down slightly, relieved – and there's _that_ , too. 

“Now you know it's not that easy keeping him alive, Todd,” Pru says, little snap of anger in her voice for Tim. “Bastard does it on purpose.”

Not all the time, just. 

“Don't even fucking try it, Boss.”

Wisely, Tim keeps his mouth shut. 

Looks at Dick, Jason. 

Pru, who is _watching_ him. 

“What's the plan, genius?” Jason asks.

Tim.

Laughs. Says, “Call the police.”

********

Commissioner Gordon just _looks_ at him.

At Tim, a little battered and bruised, handcuffs dangling from one wrist. Through the open doorway to the room he was being kept in revealing the oh so charming accommodations. At the goons, thugs, scattered across the main room in varying stages of consciousness and injury.

At Pru and Jason, talking to other police officers, giving their reports and acting the part of concerned bodyguard and...business partner, respectively.

“Commissioner.”

“Mr. Drake,” Commissioner Gordon says, rubs at his eyes. “I don't want to know.”

Laughs the kind of laugh a man who knows the universe is mocking him laughs, and says, “Give your report to one of my people. And for God's sake, let them take you to the hospital to get looked at before you go home.”

Tim.

“You look like shit, son.”

Well, when he puts it like that.

********

There is.

Tam carefully not yelling at Tim, when she picks him up from the hospital, Harper and Cullen flanking her.

And scowling. So much scowling.

Tim avoids her eyes as he signs the release papers, nods dutifully in all the right the places while the nurse is going over the usual precautions with him, smiling politely.

While they're waiting for Harper and Cullen to bring the car around, Tam fuming beside him, Pru a silent shadow behind them.

Jason is.

Jason is probably off scaring criminals, smart enough to know not to be here for this, and Tim.

Tim gets to listen to Tam lecture him on his reckless plans, stupid face, and moronic everything on the ride home.

Leans in, when the car pulls into the designated parking space and hugs her, says, “Thank you,Tam,” because he doesn't say it nearly enough. And because she needs to hear it, “I'm okay. Everything's okay.”

Sits back and looks at her, careful careful.

“God, you're such a jerk,” Tam says, wiping at her eyes, punches Tim hard on the shoulder. “I cleared your schedule for the next two days, you look horrible.”

Tim smiles, a little crooked. “You are not the first person to tell me that tonight, shockingly.”

********

There's a letter waiting for him on his desk when he gets back to the penthouse.

Blank envelope, single sentence in all too familiar handwriting:

 

_Reckless as always, Timothy._

 

No signature, as though Tim would need one to know who'd sent it.

Sighs, looks up at Pru, standing in the doorway.

“Another test?”

She shrugs, looks away. “I couldn't begin to guess.”

Tim could.

There's always someone new, isn't there. Someone who comes along and thinks the way to make a name for themselves is by challenging someone higher up from them. Doing whatever they can to make it big, become someone important.

Thing is, that's a bad idea in a city like Gotham.

Makes people like Tim irritated, annoyed. (Angry.)

Can, if pushed too far, get people dead.

Tim keeps an eye out, takes note of things like that. Takes the necessary steps to offer an alliance if they prove beneficial,, or take them down, one way or another if they're more trouble Gotham doesn't need. 

Sometimes, though.

Sometimes the new guy goes unnoticed too long, or they just don't care, want to tear everything down around them and set fire to it. 

Start over.

Sometimes Tim doesn't catch them in time, and things like this. Like Ra's playing one of his games, testing Tim, happen.

“He knows my answer isn't going to change, right?”

“I couldn't begin to guess,” Pru repeats, but this time there's the smallest hint of a smile.

Tim sighs, crumples Ra's' letter into a ball and throws it in the trash.

********

Tim wakes up at the light tap-tap-tapping at his face, furry paw and faint touch of claws not fully sheathed. 

Opens his eyes to see Mr. Whiskers glaring down at him.

“Needy,” Dick says, and Tim looks to where he's standing by the bed looking tired and not a little pleased with himself.

As if he doesn't know Pru and the others look the other way when he sneaks in, gets past all of Tim's security measures.

“Fussy,” Tim corrects, feels a smile forming. 

Dick looks at him, fading bruises and healing cuts, too many stupid ideas and dreams for Gotham that will probably get him killed one day, but.

“Hey,” Dick says, soft, sits on the edge of the bed, just looks at him.

They can actually communicate like functioning adults, but this works too.

“Hey.”


End file.
